After the Fall
by Kei-the-Alchemist
Summary: After Sirius dies, he finds himself reunited with James and Lily Potter. They want to know what's become of their son. One-Shot.


Sirius Black awoke in the gentle sort-of peaceful way one does after a delightful summer nap and found himself beside the Black Lake, perfectly aware that he was dead. He knew the place immediately; he'd fallen asleep there before while skiving off of Slughorn's lessons with the rest of the Marauders. Slowly, Sirius rose from the soft grass, stopping to marvel at his hands as he used them to push himself up. No longer were they worn and older than his thirty-some years; now, they were only calloused slightly in patterns he recognized from the Quidditch seasons of his youth.

Curiously, he ambled over to the edge of the lake and peered in. Staring back at him was a face like a portrait. At least, that's where he last saw it. It was his, alright, but it was freshly seventeen. Gone were the lines and tangled hair. He looked as he did before Azkaban, before James' death. Sirius let out a laugh, full of wonder and mirth and nothing like the bark-like one Harry and Remus could coax out of him lately. He'd forgotten how good-looking he'd been.

Clapping his hands together gleefully (because what else is there to do when you're dead and have your glory days back, at least in part?), Sirius began to make his way to the shade of an immense tree (that he'd always called an oak but was really a walnut) with the intent of taking a nap. That is, until a familiar, but far too long absent voice called to him, "Padfoot!"

"Prongs!" he roared, racing out to reunite with his best friend who was just coming into view.

James wasn't alone. Lily was beside him, with their fingers intertwined. They looked young, too, even younger than they were when they died. It was like the Wizarding War hadn't happened. Sirius didn't hesitate to pull them both into a long over-due hug. It was so tight that Sirius thought it ought to hurt them. If it did, neither of the Potters said anything.

An eternity that wasn't quite as long as the one they spent apart, but close to it, passed before Sirius released them with a grin so wide his face should have split clean open. He kept one hand firmly clapped onto James' right shoulder as they huddled together in a small circle so everyone could revel in the reunion. James was the first to break the silence. "Well, I won't lie and say I'm not chuffed to see you, mate. Sorry you're dead, though. Real bummer, that. How'd it happen?"

Sirius laughed heartily, a laugh that hadn't been heard in almost fifteen years. It dawned on him that he wasn't upset to be dead, not in the least. Yes, he'd miss Remus and Harry, but he'd see them again. Probably soon, the way this second war was going, but now that he knew what the other side held, none of it really seemed to matter. "Remember that bitch of a cousin I had? Sixth year when we were firsts?"

James thought for a moment, squinting behind his round glasses. "Bellatrix, yeah?" he said.

Lily shivered. As a teen, Bellatrix Lestrange had been quite the bully and Lily was a favorite target of hers. She only got worse with the war. Inconspicuously, James re-laced his left hand with her right again as a gentle reminder that she was safe now. It didn't help but so much, given that their son was still out there, but she appreciated the gesture.

"The killing curse," Sirius elaborated. "Same as you. But it doesn't matter now."

"Of course it matters!" Lily exclaimed. "Some Death Eater's gone and killed you. You've been murdered. There's a war on, _again_, apparently. And _who's going to take care of my boy_?" she demanded. Lily had always been one for justice, and her maternal instinct had been strong even before Harry. Sirius harked back to why Molly Weasley had reminded him so forcefully of Lily. Apparently, it wasn't just the red hair.

The thought that struck Lily, occurred to James, too. "Did you have a will? With someone to take care of Harry? I'm sure Remus…" he began rambling.

"Harry's inherited everything, of course, but he'll stay living with his aunt and uncle, in Surrey, as he's been doing, I expect," Sirius responded calmly.

The Potters reeled back as if someone had hit them with a stunning spell. "_Petunia_?" Lily asked, appalled.

"Did you not know?" Sirius asked, equally as shocked. Were the dead really so removed from the living?

"How the _hell_ did my son end up with those gits?" James roared. "I _specifically_ wrote _'Sirius Black'_ in our will, with full intention that you raise our Harry." He was seething, which was a very rare thing for James Potter. Even in the darkest of times, he had always been quite the chipper bloke.

Sirius frowned for a moment, wondering how much of the story he was obligated to tell them _right now. _"Well, I suppose you two have worked out that Peter was the one who gave you away, yeah?" he began. Lily gave him a withering look that clearly said, 'Of course.' "Well, when I heard, I tracked him down. Got myself arrested and chucked into Azkaban for thirteen years (I escaped, oh, James, wait 'til you hear how I did it!)" he said excitedly, before reigning himself back in, "For murdering thirteen muggles and his sorry arse, none of which I did, of course."

"Of _course_," James and Lily said in unison, with equal levels of sarcasm in their voices. They were pretty sure that it was probably Peter or some Death Eater responsible for the crimes, but Sirius had never been very well controlled. It was actually quite conceivable that he, in a rage over the Potters' death, went a bit overboard in trying to extract his revenge.

He glared good-naturedly at them. "I _didn't_," Sirius reiterated. "With me in Azkaban and your sacrifice," he nodded at Lily, "keeping Harry safe when he was near your blood, Dumbledore sent him off to Surrey to live with you sister."

James and Lily deflated. This is not what they wanted for Harry. Of course, they hadn't exactly wanted him to be an orphan, either. "Tell me they're treating him alright," Lily beseeched.

"Well..."

"Oh, Merlin," James moaned. "When they die, I'm going to _kill_ them."

"But he's turned out great," Sirius said quickly. "Really spectacularly, actually."

Both Potters beamed when they heard this. "Well, what are you waiting for, Padfoot? Tell us about him!"

Sirius smiled, too, as he began to launch into his description of his godson. "He looks just like you, James, but with your eyes, Lily. Exactly your eyes, only not as good because he's got to wear glasses. He's a Gryffindor, of course, and has been seeker since his first year."

"That's my boy!" James said proudly, knowing it meant Harry was superb, a natural talent, the youngest in a century.

Nodding enthusiastically, Sirius continued, "He's got good friends and he's really loyal and kind and oh, he's so talented! Remus actually taught him in his third year, Defense Against the Dark Arts, so you know how that went. He taught him to do a Patronus and he was _thirteen_! It's a stag, by the way."

By this point, Lily had tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Harry sounded perfect, better than she had ever dreamed he'd be, but Sirius was far from done. "He started an underground Defense class when their teacher refused to do her damn job, and let anyone who wanted to learn in. He's helpful and respectful, but he doesn't hesitate to speak up when something's wonky. He's fought dragons and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and he never complains. He really has the best of both of you."

Now, she was crying softly and freely, and so was James. They wished life had given their son a different lot, but he had grown into a good man; that's all they really wanted for him, after all.


End file.
